Chosen
by CrazyMich
Summary: At the end of Season 5 Buffy and Dawn fall into the portal, instead of dying they are transported to a long time ago and a galaxy far, far away. BuffyStar Wars
1. Part 1: Arrival

**Part 1: Arrival**

Fourteen-year-old Dawn Summers shivered with pain, fear, and nausea.

She stood upon a high tower, overlooking a construction site that held a number of mind-numb cronies created by the hell god, Glorificus. All this god wanted was to go home, but to do that, she needed Dawn's blood.

And it would seem that Glory had gotten her desire. There were several cuts, long enough to cause her pain, shallow enough not to spill all her blood instantly, running horizontally along her abdomen. Her hands and feet were bound with chains and manacles. Tears ran down the youthful face that was struggling to emerge into maturity.

Doc, the demon that had formerly tried to help her raise her mother from the dead, and had just thrown Spike over the edge, had just finished his last cut and blood fell through the grates of the tower and out into the air.

He was an old, grandfather-like man, and once Dawn had trusted him.

She was going to die. But that wasn't what scared her the most. Because of her so many terrible things had happened. Tara, Willow's friend, had all but lost her mind, Spike had been beaten to a mass of swollen bruises, and Giles had nearly died.

And now, after all their efforts to protect her, she was still going to die...and she was going to take the rest of the world with her...down into hell.

That thought made the tears flow harder.

"Dawn."

Beneath the glimmer of salt water, Dawn saw the image of her sister. "Buffy!" Her voice cracked on her sister's name.

Doc spun to face Buffy, his smile, once kindly, was the smile of the devil himself. "This should be interesting."

But Buffy was in unstoppable slayer-mode, she took steady strides forward and tossed the old demon man off the tower as easily as Dawn would have thrown her old dolls. Buffy's slim hands went to the manacles at Dawn's hands and feet, prying them apart with the preternatural strength of a Slayer.

"Here," she said, grasping Dawn's hands to balance her.

The pain in Dawn's stomach flared like lances of fire. "Buffy, it hurts."

More blood trickled down to the air below .

"It's okay. I got it. Come on. We've got to get you off this tower."

They staggered to the towers exit, that would lead down to the scaffolding. Dawn limped aside Buffy, her older sister holding her up. They were going to make it. They would go home and Buffy would bandage their wounds. And maybe she could have pizza with anchovies.

Hope was beginning to fill the young girl, when something like a burn flooded through Dawn. It was like she was more then just the Key, she was also the lock. "Buffy, it's started."

Turning together, they found a white swirling pool of energy, bolts of lightning shot out from it, and everywhere it struck something evil and hellish took its place. Cries echoed up to them. Blood from a morbid wound. Soon those lightning bolts would change the world as they knew it, decimating everything in its path.

It was the hell Glory had wanted.

Dawn's head went down. "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter," Buffy tried to console her. This wasn't like her sister. Buffy had suffered too much of late and because of this had lost her usual edge. She was ready for death and whatever that brought with it.

But Dawn wasn't ready to let the world die. She started towards the portal, remembering Glory's words. The portal would continue until the blood stopped. Until Dawn's blood was stopped. She headed back for the edge of the tower, ready to leap into the belly of that swirling light. For some reason she wasn't afraid.

Buffy caught her though, held her close.

"What are you doing?" her older sister asked, aghast.

"I have to jump. The energy," Dawn stumbled over the words.

Buffy's eyes were wide. "It'll kill you."

Dawn couldn't quite meet Buffy's eyes. "I know." She swallowed, steeling herself. "Buffy, I know about the ritual. I have to stop it."

"No!"

As if to punctuate Buffy's denial, the tower shook underneath them, metal rattling ominously. Another lightning bolt, another crucial change, a wound in reality where it wasn't hell or heaven, but where you got to choose.

"I have to. Look at what's happening." Out from another burst of jagged electricity, popped a dragon, it sailed through the darkened sky, a feral shout torn from its razored beak. "Buffy, you have to let me go. Blood starts it, and until the blood stops flowing, it'll never stop."

Slack-jawed, Buffy starred at her, turmoil written on her beautiful features.

"You know you have to let me. It has to have the blood."

A light suddenly sparked in Buffy's green eyes and she looked at the blood still pooling at Dawn's waist to the portal and back again. When her eyes came up to meet Dawn's azure gaze, there was a look of peace.

And Dawn suddenly knew what Buffy was going to do. "Buffy, no!"

"Dawn, I have to."

"No!" Dawn gasped again on a sob.

"Dawn listen," Buffy pleaded leaning close to her. "Please, there's not a lot of time, listen."

Buffy cupped her head between two hands and leaned close to her ear as though to bestow a secret, when the tower was struck by a bolt of lightning, sheering it in two. Dawn let out a scream as the broken tower fell towards the portal as if called to it.

The Slayer grabbed her with one arm, while seeking for a hand hold with the other. They continued to slide down inch by inch. But it was no use. It was as if something inside of Dawn was being pulled by an unseen tether into the belly of the portal.

"Buffy let go," she cried, afraid she was leading her sister into a death she couldn't avoid.

They dropped into the air, free-falling into the portal and then there was only pain.

* * *

"What is that horrendous thing?" Padme Naberrie asked, as a large winged creature flew overhead.

Qui-Gon Jinn looked up, squinting against the bright sun. "It's a Krayt dragon, though its strange to see them out at this time of day. We must hurry, young handmaiden."

The girl rolled her eyes and Qui-Gon kept an eye on the creature overhead, while urging his eeopie forward. They were nearly to the ship and he wanted to get Obi-Wan working on replacing the parts before setting back to, hopefully, gather Anakin Skywalker.

There was little doubt in his mind that the boy was the prophesied Chosen One. He just had to convince the Jedi Council of that. Which was easier thought then done. Even with the Force's obvious guidance, the Council had become heavily rule bound and blinded to the will of the Force.

The Force. Yes, there was a shift. Not a subtle disturbance.

By some instinct, he glanced up in time to see the Krayt dragon pop out of existence. Incredulous, he froze and so did the eeopie. "By the Force," he whispered. And that's what it had to be. He blinked several times, wondering if Tatooine's heat had finally gotten to him. The Krayt dragon did not reappear for a long while.

And when it did, Obi-Wan had reached his side.

And when it did reappear, it fell into the air, it's large wings spreading pushing into the wind.

And right behind hit, falling as dead weight, were two figures.


	2. Part 2: The Pull

**Part 2:The Pull**

The disturbance in the Force was unlike anything Obi-Wan had felt before. Different from the elusive worry that had affected him at the beginning of this mission. It was as though the Force was being sucked at and then regurgitated in rhythmic intervals.

He'd already removed the fried hyperdrive parts, had set out the tools that he'd need to repair it, and had reviewed the schematics until he knew them as well as their designer. He was ready for his Master to return with the parts and be on their way. But he had a sinking feeling that they would be leaving with one extra passenger.

Frustration, bordering on resentment, caused Obi-Wan to walk out of the ship and out into the endless sand of Tatooine.

It was the way of his Master, he understood this - logically. It was the more illogical part of himself, the part that had dwindled or gone into hiding with his Jedi training, that couldn't quite understand why his Master had to constantly jeopardize himself as well as their missions.

He certainly didn't begrudge the boy, Anakin if he remembered correctly, his awe of Qui-Gon or even a few moments of excitement Qui-Gon's presence bestowed on him. More times then Obi-Wan would have liked to count, he'd been close to sharing a life similar to Anakin's.

Shaking his head, he caught sight of his Master, the handmaiden, Padme, and the parts they'd been waiting for as they crested the horizon. He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long steady pace. Frustration had no place in this mission, he had to keep his focus.

That rhythm returned, the pull and the press that followed. He felt it in the very depths of his belly, almost as though he were in the cockpit that had its inertia compensators dialed down. Something was happening and frustration was quickly overpowered by relief by his Master's return.

Qui-Gon and Padme were about fifty meters away when a Krayt dragon came out into the open blue sky from a particularly large sand dune. The winged creature let out a cry and it echoed down to Obi-Wan. It was an odd cry, piercing and menacing. He saw now why the Tusken Raiders scurried away at the sound of it.

He moved to meet his Master, his feet sinking into the sand with each step. It was long before he was a few meters away and then that Krayt dragon, that huge beast, disappeared with a pop in the Force. He looked up and then rushed to his Master's side.

The Krayt dragon returned and two slim figures fell from the sky.

Without a spoken word, with the accord that had come to them over twelve years of working together nearly every day, Qui-Gon dismounted the eeopie and together they ran for the falling beings.

As they ran, Obi-Wan asked, "Master?"

"I'm not sure," Qui-Gon answered, perfectly audible despite their heavy pace. "I only just felt the disturbance. What are your perceptions, Obi-Wan?"

In matters of the Force, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan perceived it very differently. Qui-Gon saw the one, his empathy to the plight of one person gave him wonderful insight into that being's hear. Obi-Wan tended to see more of things as a whole. His was the safety of the many. Their differences was one of the reasons they worked so well together.

"I've felt it for a little while now, Master, but I can't quite explain it," Obi-Wan supplied.

His Master gave a curt nod. Obi-Wan translated it easily. They'd discuss it later, when time allowed.

There was a spray of sand to mark to the impact of the two figures. More agile on his feet, Obi-Wan leaped ahead, coming up the sand dune in long strides. He came upon the two figures. Two girls. A brown-haired, human child, lay in the grasp, of an older blond-haired woman. Both were unconscious and the brown-haired girl was bleeding. He went to her first, checking with the Force to see if she had any other injuries. Sure that nothing was broken, he picked the girl up from the blonde woman's grasp. He felt a stab of worry as the blonde's small arms fell away lifeless.

He lay the girl down on the sand, careful to keep her wounds as clean as possible, before crouching over the blonde.

He felt less sure of her Force-signature. It was weak, like the embers of a dying fire and he did his best to blow life into those embers, to coax a fire, with the power of the Force. "Master," he said, hearing Qui-Gon behind him. "This one's not breathing. She needs you."

He moved away, allowing Qui-Gon's large form to kneel before the dying, he didn't want to admit that she was already dead, form. Without knowing why, he was drawn to the girl. From his belt he pulled a tube of bacta and then brought the girl into his arms. Tenderly, he dabbed bacta onto her cuts, while watching Qui-Gon struggle to revive the blonde.

The living Force, Qui-Gon's gift, was perhaps the only thing that could bring the woman back from the netherworld of the Force. The girl, perhaps the same age as the Queen and her handmaidens, was relatively unharmed. By the position he found the two women, he deduced that the blonde had used herself as a cocoon to dampen the fall for the dark-haired girl.

Obi-Wan shook his head. The blonde must have realized that it would mean her death. She was thing and the impact of not only her weight, but that added of the girl, should have broken her back.

But it didn't seem right.

He'd done a quick scan of the blonde, tentative enough not to disturb Qui-Gon's work, and found that there wasn't a bone broken. Something else had killed this woman.

Qui-Gon's hands rested on the blonde's head, focusing his will in keeping that flame alive. After several inexorable heartbeats, Obi-Wan began to fear that she was already too far gone. Yet, his Master was determined, and rogue though he may be considered, he was a Master of his art as well as Obi-Wan's mentor.

Like a lightsaber spurting to life, the blonde woman drew in a sharp breath. And then another, this one more shallow and with more effort, but nonetheless there, with another following on its heels.

Satisfied, Qui-Gon opened his eyes and locked gazes with Obi-Wan. "I think she should be well long enough for us to get them to the ship."

"And from there?"

"I don't know, Obi-Wan. I get the feeling that we can't leave them here."

"No," Obi-Wan agreed.

Qui-Gon cocked an eyebrow at him but didn't say anything for a moment. "Let's get them to the ship. Then I have to head back to the city. Get the hyperdrive ready. I want to be able to leave as soon as I return."

_With the boy_, Obi-Wan thought, but held his tongue. He knew how far to push Qui-Gon, but at the moment, he didn't feel like pushing.

"If only we knew what had happened," he said, looking at the young girl.

Juggling the girl into a better position in his arms, Obi-Wan stood. His eyes turned down as the girl, still unconscious, curled into his warmth. She looked so young, so lost, and...ugh, Qui-Gon was getting to him. Pretty soon, _he'd_ be the one bringing home every hopeless cause they met. This girl wasn't a hopeless case. Her clothes were strange to him, but seemingly well made, despite the rents from what looked to be some crude vibroblade.

Again, he was struck by a need to protect this girl, something drawing him to her, commanding him to be her guardian.

"Who are they?" he wondered out loud.

Qui-Gon didn't answer, not that Obi-Wan was expecting one. They were both avoiding an argument that was residing beneath the skin, waiting for a cut to bleed their anger against one another. It had been like this between them for some time now. Obi-Wan, no longer a child, was past the brink of manhood and was stepping all over Qui-Gon's proverbial toes.

Their differences, which they'd learned to use to bring them together, were now seeking to beak them apart once more. With a mental sight, Obi-Wan held the dark-haired girl closely and follows his mentor down to their ship.


End file.
